arose filled with vigor, his troubling thoughts of murder, spiteful partners, age, unfaithful wives, strange servants and lost chances banished by a good night's sleep. Hoping to avoid a repeat of Friday, he stood for several minutes in front of his tie rack looking for a compromise candidate. He would wear a tie, but one only he would like. That would show them he was now his own man. There were several possible choices and he considered them carefully. He rejected the string cowboy tie brought back to him from Sante Fe by his cleaning lady, and settled instead on a wide crimson silk, given to him last Christmas by Herbert Wong. Wong was a loyal Sterling & Sterling messenger, now retired, who for years had brought gifts back from his vacations as thanks to T.S. for having been granted a job neatly fifteen years before. The mementos ranged from plastic coasters painted with hula dancers to a Mexican sombrero. Last year, Wong had traveled home to Singapore and returned with a special tie for the esteemed Mr.
